A SCOUTING PARTY
“I can’t tell you much, for I don’t know much about it, myself,” Walt
explained. “All the information I have are my orders. I am to carry some
dispatches from General Atkinson to Fort Armstrong.”
“That’s all that is necessary for us to know,” cried Robert
enthusiastically. “How many are there to be in our party?”
“Ten. We four and six others.”
“We’d better get ready then, I guess,” suggested Joseph, who was always
of a practical turn of mind. “How about food? Who is to look out for
that?”
“I am,” replied Walt. “The rest of you needn’t worry about a single
thing. Everything is ready and all you will have to do is to go along.”
“That’s fine!” exclaimed Robert. “Just the kind of an expedition I like.
Not a blessed thing to worry about.”
“Except Indians,” Joseph cautioned him.
“Huh! Indians!” snorted Robert. “We aren’t afraid of Indians! Are we,
Deerfoot?” and he slapped that surprised brave heartily on the back.
“No afraid,” replied Deerfoot seriously, looking in astonishment at his
young friend. He never had become used to these outbursts of hilarity on
Robert’s part and he did not know just what to make of them.
“You’re glad you’re going, too, aren’t you?” Robert insisted.
“Yes, me glad,” answered Deerfoot, without changing the expression of
his face or the tone of his voice.
“You’re hopeless, Deerfoot,” exclaimed Robert laughing. “You show about
as much enthusiasm as a piece of rock.”
“He doesn’t believe in wasting his strength and breath perhaps,”
suggested Joseph. “When the time comes he’ll be in the thick of things,
though, you may be sure of that.”
“I know it,” said Robert. “When he does a thing or says a thing he means
it. That’s more than I can say sometimes.”
“We won’t worry about you, I guess, Bob,” laughed Walt. “I know who can
be depended upon. That’s the reason I asked you to go with us.”
“And now I’m going to leave you,” he added. “Don’t forget tomorrow.
We’ll meet at the swimming hole at daybreak. Good night.”
“Good night,” replied Joseph, Robert and Deerfoot together, and a moment
later Walt disappeared in the darkness.
“Where is Fort Armstrong?” demanded Robert, as they were preparing to
turn in for the night.
“Why, Bob,” chided his brother. “Don’t you know where that is?”
“Of course I do,” replied Robert. “That’s just the reason I asked you.”
“Well, it’s right where the Rock River empties into the Mississippi,”
Joseph explained, paying no attention to his brother’s attempt at
sarcasm. “That is the place where General Atkinson and General Whiteside
came from. They collected their troops there before they started up the
Rock River.”
“Then we’re going back the way they came?”
“Exactly.”
“But I’m afraid we’ll miss something,” protested Robert.
“Don’t you want to go? A few minutes ago you said you did.”
“I still do,” exclaimed Robert quickly. “For a moment it seemed to me
that we would be getting out of touch with things if we went back there,
but I guess there’s likely to be something going on, no matter where we
are.”
“Surely, there is,” Joseph agreed. “I think that Black Hawk’s victory
will make it very unsafe for the settlers around here, too.”
“That’s so. Probably all the Indians will start out on the warpath now.”
“Yes, and they’ll be murdering all the settlers in the country,”
exclaimed Joseph. “Many more families will get the same treatment ours
did, I’m afraid.”
“Well, that’s what you and I are here to stop, you know,” said Robert.
“Perhaps if we stop talking and get some sleep we’ll be in better shape
to do it, too,” Joseph suggested. “Look at Deerfoot. He’s asleep
already.”
The two brothers also were soon fast asleep and knew nothing more until
they felt their Indian friend shaking them and telling them to wake up.
They were on their feet almost instantly and were soon ready to depart.
The ponies were fed and watered, and in a short time they were all on
their way to the meeting place on the river bank. It was scarcely light
as yet and the first rays of the sun were just appearing when the young
soldiers reached their destination.
Walt was already on hand, as also were two of the other members of the
party. In a few moments the three remaining scouts appeared and a start
was made at once.
The boys were very proud to be members of this expedition. A
responsibility had been placed upon their shoulders and every man likes
to feel that he is thought capable of sharing such a trust. Joseph was
doubly proud. He sat astride The Swallow and felt himself the center of
all eyes. The more he rode the pony the better he liked him, too. As
Walt said, “The Swallow was everything that a horse should be.”
They struck off across the prairie and following the course of the river
as closely as practicable they made their way steadily forward. Both
Joseph and Robert were delighted to see among their number John Mason,
the man who had first called Robert “Red,” and had entertained them one
night with a story of a hunting experience his father had had. The two
brothers had formed a strong liking for this man. He was a splendid type
of pioneer and commanded the respect of all who came in contact with
him.
“Bad times ahead of us, boys,” he exclaimed, bringing his horse
alongside Robert’s and addressing the two brothers.
“What’s the matter now?” Robert demanded.
“Black Hawk has turned his war parties loose on the settlements.”
“He did that long ago,” said Joseph. “Bob and I know that from bitter
experience.”
“I know you do,” exclaimed Mason. “I guess you have caught it as hard as
anyone, but it’s going to be worse than ever now. Since Black Hawk
chased us away so easily, I guess he has become conceited and thinks
that nothing can hold him back.”
“That’s what we said would happen,” Joseph remarked.
“Well, it’s true,” continued Mason. “Several reports have come in
already of people being murdered.”
“Near here?” inquired Robert.
“Yes, quite near. Yesterday morning they killed a man just north of
here. He was a minister and was on his way to Chicago. It seems he was
in the habit of traveling around through the settlements in the course
of his work. He was a queer looking old fellow, with a beard that was
nearly a yard long. I remember him well, for he used to come around my
part of the country as well as here. Two nights ago he stopped over
night with a family who warned him that suspicious Indians were in the
neighborhood. They all left the house and hurried off to safe places,
but he stayed on. He said he wasn’t afraid and that he didn’t think the
Indians would harm him anyway. So he stayed. One of the sons returned
home the next morning to get something that had been forgotten, and
found the poor old fellow scalped and his head almost severed from his
body. Isn’t that horrible?”
“I should say it is,” agreed Joseph, shuddering at the thought.
“Where did you hear about it?” asked Robert.
“The son who returned home told me. He hurried right from there to
Dixon’s and wants to enlist. He says this business must stop.”
“He is right about that!” Joseph agreed heartily. “Why, no one will be
safe any more unless something is done. All the other tribes may be
lured in, too, if they see the success Black Hawk is having.”
“Very true,” said Mason. “I believe that already some of the Winnebagos
and Pottowattomies have joined him.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Robert. “I wonder if Deerfoot knows that some of
his people are with Black Hawk now?”
“Of course he knows,” said Joseph. “He seems to know everything almost
before it happens. He is uncanny at times.”
“Do you suppose it will make any difference to him?”
“Not a bit. Why, he’d choose you and me in preference to his own family,
I think. He likes us better than anyone else in the world.”
“He certainly is a good friend of yours, isn’t he?” remarked Mason. “At
any rate I believe only a small band of his people are with Black Hawk.
Some of the young bloods who like fighting, that’s all.”
“Indians love to fight, don’t they?” said Robert. “I wonder why it is.”
“Simply because it is born in them, I guess,” laughed Mason. “All their
lives they fight. If not with the whites, then with some other tribe.”
“I feel sorry for them,” Joseph remarked. “They certainly have had a
hard time ever since the white people came into this country. Every year
they are pushed farther and farther west. They see their homes being
taken from them and I don’t blame them if they don’t like it.”
“I suppose you felt sorry for them when they were murdering our family
and burning our home,” exclaimed Robert hotly.
“That’s different,” agreed Joseph. “At the same time I don’t suppose
they know any better and that is their way of making war.”
“That doesn’t excuse them, though,” retorted Robert.
“Of course it doesn’t,” Joseph admitted. “I’m for getting even with them
just as much as you are. Don’t worry about that. And I agree with you
that the quicker we let them know that we won’t stand for this sort of
business the better it will be for all concerned.”
“That’s exactly the way I feel,” said Mason. “Personally I have nothing
against the Indians. There are good ones and there are bad ones, just as
there are good and bad white men. This country has got to be safe for
settlers to live in though, and I am going to do my best to help make it
that way. As you say we must let the Indians know that we intend to put
a stop to this wholesale murder and massacre.”
The sun by this time was high in the heavens and a stop was made to
refresh the horses and to give the men a short breathing spell. They
halted in a clump of trees near the bank of the river. The men stretched
themselves on the ground and completely relaxed. It was a peaceful scene
and it would have been difficult for an observer to realize that danger
lurked near at hand. One of the scouts stationed as a lookout soon
testified to this fact, however.
When a half-hour had elapsed the march was resumed. The route still lay
along the bank of the river, most of it over the open prairie.
Occasionally they crossed a swamp or passed through a clump of woods and
at such times extreme caution was exercised. One man was sent ahead to
spy out the land, while the others followed in single file, prepared for
any emergency that might arise.
Thus far no sign of the enemy had been discovered, however. At the same
time the scouts did not relax their caution for an instant. They were
too familiar with the ways of the redmen to think themselves ever secure
from an attack.
The day wore on and the shadows grew longer. Some of the horses began to
show signs of fatigue, but not so The Swallow. He stepped as lightly as
ever and apparently was as fresh as when he started. Joseph became more
enthusiastic over his new pony every moment. The other horses were
tired, however, and soon it was decided to stop for the night.
“There’s a large swamp just ahead,” explained Walt. “I think we ought to
get through that before we pitch camp. On the other side is a long
stretch of prairie and we should be safe from any surprise out there in
the open.”
Walt’s suggestion was approved and soon the little party came to the
swamp. It was particularly dense and of large extent. To ride around it
would have consumed much valuable time. Consequently they plunged into
its fastnesses and urged their horses to make their best speed and reach
the open country again as quickly as possible.
The party was strung out in a long line, with John Mason at the head. No
one spoke and the only sound to be heard was the heavy breathing of the
horses and the sucking of their hoofs as they pulled them out of the
soft, wet earth.
Suddenly a rifle shot rang out through the still air and the band of
scouts came to an abrupt halt.